


Coming Home

by LittleLynn



Series: Don't Go [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, M/M, and meets bard's kids, bard visits thrandy in mirkwood, cause they feel more real to him that way, thranduil says endearments in elvish, thrandy visits bard in dale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 11:24:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3118394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been fairly obvious, at least to Bard and the other elves (luckily the other men hadn’t realised) that Thranduil had been delaying his departure as much as possible. </p><p>In theory, Bard was the only one who knew exactly why Thranduil was still there, and it was not so the king could ‘continue negotiations and help the people of Laketown rebuild Dale’. </p><p>Bard knew it had far more to do with the ‘official business’ he had to carry out with the 'king' of Dale; almost every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so it's 01:45 am here in England so no, I have not proof read this (I am hoping it doesn't show) but I just wanted to get it up :) I will proof read tomorrow but feel free to point out any errors.
> 
> Again you could probably read this stand alone but it is much better in series :) 
> 
> Anyway here is part three; enjoy!

It had been fairly obvious, at least to Bard and the other elves (luckily the other men hadn’t realised) that Thranduil had been delaying his departure as much as possible.

In theory, Bard was the only one who knew exactly why Thranduil was still there, and it was not so the king could ‘continue negotiations and help the people of Laketown rebuild Dale’. Bard knew it had far more to do with the ‘official business’ he had to carry out with the king of Dale; almost every night.

Bard had no doubt that most if not all the elves knew about the intimate relationship between their king and himself, even if they made no mention of it, or any indication at all that they knew about it. Bard knew now that a relationship between two men was not frowned upon as shameful by elves the way it was by men. He also suspected that they respected their king enough not to gossip, well, that may be through fear just as much as respect. Either way, they encountered no comment or remark about their behaviour.

Eventually though, Thranduil did have to return to Mirkwood.

“Unfortunately I am not able to run my kingdom indefinitely from out here.”

“You need to go back.”

“Yes.” Thranduil sighed, reluctance lacing his tone as he spoke.

They were in Thranduil’s tent, which had grown in size as his stay was prolonged, and had been moved closer to Bard’s residence in Dale; ‘purely for practical reasons, I cannot be walking across ruins everyday just to find the king of Dale, this is much more practical.’ Thranduil had announced to Bard when he exited his house one morning to find the tent not twenty-five meters away, Bard had blushed and Thranduil’s elves had stoically pretended to believe it.

“Well, we both knew you wouldn’t be able to stay here forever.” Bard replied, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice, despite having been expecting it for a while now.

He was sat on Thranduil’s throne while Thranduil wandered almost restlessly around the tent, before sighing again and facing Bard, holding himself with all the easy elegance and grace Bard had come to expect.

“I am aware of that. There are things that I need to attend to in my kingdom that cannot be handled from here. I think I shall have to leave in the morning.”

“Oh.” Bard had been expecting slightly more warning that that, it was already very late in the evening, probably better described as early early morning at this point. It meant they only had a few hours really.

“Know that I would stay if I could.” Thranduil assured with a surprisingly soft voice and open face.

“Nah. You don’t want to stay here among all these ruins any longer when you could be in your beautiful kingdom.” Bard smiled, attempting to lighten the air. It felt like a goodbye even though he knew it wasn’t, not really.

“The ruins have had nothing to do with my stay, and they would not deter me from staying longer, if only I could.” Thranduil responded, melancholy darkening his radiant, ethereal features.

Bard couldn’t have that.

He stood from the throne and went over to Thranduil, taking his face in his hands like he had done so many times recently, enough that it already felt so natural and right.

“Why do you frown so?” Bard asked smiling, running his thumbs over his pale forehead and smoothing out the lines there. “Anyone would think you were never going to see me again. But I can assure you that won’t be the case. Does your invitation to visit you in your kingdom still stand?”

“Of course.”

“Then I will see you in a week, I’m sure that is long enough for you to come up with a summons on official business, don’t you think?” Bard teased playfully.

“But it will not be the same.” Thranduil said wistfully.

“No, it won’t.” Bard conceded, placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I won’t get to see you every day.” A kiss to his neck. “And I will miss that.” Licking at his pulse point. “But. It will be even better when I do get to see you.” Now scritching his beard against the elf’s long neck, something that he had discovered Thranduil to be very fond of.

“Hmmmm. How so?” Thranduil murmured, bringing his hand up to drag through Bard’s hair.

“Well, instead of a tent we’ll be in your vast halls.” Bard continued, nibbling on the soft lobe of Thranduil’s ear. “And I intend to make you echo off of every wall.” Bard finished in a breath against his ear. Thranduil let out a little whimper, it was one of Bard’s favourite sounds.

“I will hold you to that, Dragonslayer.” Thranduil returned, tipping his head back to further bare his neck, something which Bard immediately took advantage of.

He was nipping and sucking at Thranduil’s neck, he was far less worried about marks now that there was no war, actually enjoying having them, if the way he absently ran his fingers over them during the day was anything to go by. And Bard was more than happy to provide.

“I certainly hope you’re planning on taking this somewhere, or I am going to be severely disappointed.” Thranduil tempted, breath getting heavier.

“And I would hate to disappoint.” Bard rumbled back, manoeuvring Thranduil round, guiding him with his hand, without moving his mouth from his sharp jaw, until the backs of Thranduil’s endlessly long legs hit his throne.

Bard placed his hands on Thranduil’s shoulders and put pressure on them to push him into sitting on his throne. He had, in their time together, learnt how to undo the beautiful, elaborate, gowns of his lover.

His rough workman’s hands started unbuckling the sliver gown that was the first layer of Thranduil’s outfit. The clasps went down the front of the gown and Bard loosed each one as his kissed Thranduil, stroking the elf’s tongue with him own and biting on his lips in the exact way he knew the Elvenking loved.    

Instead of pushing the robe off his shoulders entirely, bard just nudged it apart very slightly and started on the fastenings on his velvety breeches that were tucked into long dark boots.

He could feel how quickly Thranduil was hardening in his underclothes and made sure to maddeningly brush his hand across him as he continued to unfasten his trousers, without offering any real relief.

Bard began nibbling on Thranduil’s jaw as he quickly undid his underclothes and took Thranduil’s heavy cock in his hand and began stroking it. Bard knew he was never going to get tired of all the noises Thranduil made during sex, they ranged from the little pants and whines like he was making now to shouts and cries in the throes.

He squeezed as he stoked him, creating a tight channel for Thranduil to buck his hips into. When Thranduil began panting in earnest, tantalizing little mewls starting to spill from his kiss-red lips when Bard rubbed his palm over the leaking tip, then Bard drew his mouth from Thranduil’s jaw and got to his knees in front of the king.

He looked up at Thranduil through his lashes in a way that he hoped was tempting and seductive – it was difficult to feel embarrassed when the fabled, regal Elvenking of Mirkwood was panting and gasping above him, cheeks painted with a captivating blush.

Bard lifted his legs to drape them over his shoulders and shunt him forwards on the throne. He took Thranduil into his mouth and sucked one long, slow drag from as close to the base as he could get, up to the head. He licked and kissed open-mouthed up and down his shaft before taking him back into his mouth and covering what he couldn’t fit into his mouth comfortably with his hand.

He worked his mouth up and down, bobbing his head and working his hand in tandem until Thranduil was desperately trying to keep his hips from bucking up into Bard’s throat. Bard set his other arm across Thranduil’s hips and held him down as he started flicking his tongue over the slit as his sucked.

Thranduil was getting close, Bard now knew intimately the signs that indicated that the elf was coming apart; and the way he was writhing under Bard’s mouth, hips thrusting against his arms uncontrollably, legs clutching into his back, and whimpers and increasingly loud whines were leaving his mouth was a clear sign.

Bard wanted to push the king over the edge hard, he took his hand off of the elf’s cock and slipped it into his underclothes and playing with his balls. As he moved his hand further back to lightly toy with his entrance he also took Thranduil as far into his mouth as he could manage and the Elvenking cried out his name and a string of Elvish, shuddering as he came down Bard’s throat.

Thranduil was panting heavily, almost passed out in a post-orgasm haze, making bard feel incredibly smug as he rose from his knees and kissed his open mouth. Bard freed himself from his town trousers and starting quickly thrusting into his hand, desperate to reach his own climax, and with the sight of Thranduil debauched and flushed with sex, it wasn’t going to take long.

Right when he was on the cusp of release, a hand joined his own, rubbing over the head of his dick, he gasped as he came over Thranduil’s hand. He supported himself against the throne while his legs felt weak, not helped by the sight of Thranduil shamelessly cleaning the come from his hand with his tongue.

They manoeuvred themselves onto the throne together, Thranduil ending up half curled in his lap, resting against his chest in the way they he seemed to prefer, obviously liking the feeling of being held.

They somehow found their way to Thranduil’s bed tangled together as they slept, only to be woken a few hours later by Thranduil’s elves informing Thranduil of the time, and that he had wanted to be leaving at this time.

Bard wasn’t worried, he was going to see him again soon.

\----------------------------------

The first time Bard visited Thranduil in Mirkwood, it was just a week after the Elvenking had finally left Dale and returned there himself.

Thranduil had sent a ‘royal summons’ six days after he left, and the next day one of his captains arrived to act as an escort for Bard’s safety and as he did not actually know the way.

“Kids,” Bard called as he received the summons that he’d been expecting. He continued when they all appeared in their small dining room. “I’ve received a summons from King Thranduil. I’m going to have to go to Mirkwood tomorrow, although I will be back by evening.”

He felt that the journey to Mirkwood should take longer, but in reality, on horseback he was assured it only took a few hours, especially with an elf as a guide.

“Da?” Tilda asked.

“Yes darlin’?”

“Are you dating the elf king?” She questioned innocently, full of genuine curiosity. Bain also looked curious while Sigrid had a small knowing smirk on her face.

Bard would be lying if he said he was surprised by the question, his kids were smart and he had spent long hours and many nights ‘discussing things and negotiating’ with the king. But still he stumbled over his words a little when he went to respond, but in the end he wasn’t about to lie to his children, especially when he hoped that he and the king would be together for a long time to come.

“Um, I–, we,” Bard sighed. “Yes, I think we are. Well, as much as you can ‘date’ and Elvenking.” He admitted, none of his children looked shocked, Tilda gave a happy nod, while Bain and Sigrid gave him reassuring smiles.

“Do you love him?” she smiled up at him, and the word that almost spilled from his lips was ‘soon’ because it was just true.

“We’ll see.” Is what he said instead.

So the next day he left Sigrid in charge (to a disgruntled ‘I can look after myself’ from Bain) and left in the early hours of the morning with his escort.

Bard knew he was gaping like a fish as he entered and walked around the truly breath-taking, cavernous halls and rooms of Thranduil’s realm.

Eventually his guide pointed him in the direction of the throne room and left him. He followed the winding bridge until coming upon the throne, where Thranduil was just dismissing an underling.

“Well now isn’t that a sight.” Bard said up to Thranduil, who smirked back at him, raising a strong eyebrow.

And it was a sight, one that Bard never intended to forget. He’d never seen something so over the top and magnificent. Thranduil did not need any height to command a room, so with the added advantage of the high throne, Bard imagined it was a terrifying thing to be brought before him here.

Terrifying, commanding, and utterly beckoning was the sight of Thranduil up there. Bard found himself hoping that one day he could the chance to take the Elvenking apart in his real throne.

Thranduil fluidly descended the steps that lead up to his throne and gracefully walked up to Bard. When he reached him he gently placed a chaste kiss against his lips before resting a hand against the small of his back as they walked.

At first Thranduil’s relatively open affectionate gestures had surprised him, expecting the elf to be reserved even in this respect. But now he realised that it was most likely because Thranduil had been alone for so long – so long it made Bard sad to think about – that he was not prepared to restrain himself now that he had someone again. What Bard still could not quite fathom was that he was that someone.

And it didn’t seem to make his subjects fear and respect him any less either.

Thranduil toured him through the opulence of his halls, it held vast pools which held purer water than Bard had ever seen, crystal blue in colour and with soft ripples. There were rooms for banqueting and parties and sacred altars. The whole thing was breath taking.

And Thranduil had stayed in a tent in a ruin for as long as possible just to see him every day.

They dined in a magnificent room which felt to Bard like it was as much a part of the forest as the things outside. A number of elves joined them as they ate, most of them stealing glances at Bard, sat next to Thranduil at one end, but they were all polite not to stare too long. The food was divine and the music that was played while they ate finer than any Bard had heard before.

After supper they retired to Thranduil’s royal rooms which held a bed that was intricately carved from wood, in much the same manner that his throne was. And it was so large Bard reckoned you could fit five grown people in it comfortably (not that he ever intended to find out, he wanted the king all to himself).

The sheets were softer than anything Bard had felt before and coloured in rich reds and gold, laced with intricate patterns.

He made good on his promise the earlier week.

 

After the first trip to Mirkwood, Bard began visiting Thranduil normally twice a week, Wednesdays and Saturdays. Thranduil would show him different parts of the forest every day before spending the early hours of the evening together and then Bard returning home.

The trips would probably be tiresome, if Bard wasn’t so please to see him every time, just as Thranduil was delighted every time he arrived and dismayed each time he left. His children did not seem to mind his frequent visits to Thranduil, the moment they did Bard would decrease them. He didn’t want to, but his children remained, as they always would, the most important people in his life.

However, when Tilda fell ill a couple of days before he would usually visit, he knew he would not be able to leave her. She wasn’t in any real danger, but she was still very little and didn’t like being alone when she was ill.

Unfortunately, it had been quite some time since he and Thranduil had bothered with a summons, and the escort now met him along the river in Mirkwood, where the woods grew more dangerous. And no one in Esgaroth was going to take a message, especially when Bard was still trying to keep the true nature of his relationship with the king a secret. Men were not so accepting as elves and Bard knew how easily the people could turn.

So it seemed as though there was no way to contact Thranduil and let him know he wouldn’t be able to come for a few days; he would make sure to go as soon as Tilda had recovered.

Three days past when he would usually visit, Tilda was on the mend by still pretty worse for wear, running a slight fever still, when there was a frantic banging on their door.

Bard ran over to it wondering what on earth it could be.

“Wha–” The words died on his tongue as he saw a haggard looking Thranduil and his harried looking royal entourage at the door.

“Are you okay?” Thranduil asked frantically bustling into the small house and shutting the door behind him, right in the faces of his men. Thranduil took his face in his smooth slender hands and running them over him, like he was checking for wounds, before placing his palm on his forehead.

“Thranduil, I’m fine.” Bard assured, putting is hand’s gently on the elf’s forearms and brushing his thumb soothingly across his wrist.

“Oh. When you did not come for days I assumed the worst. Never mind. I can, I can go.” Thranduil said pulling away, but Bard held tight to his arms, he knew Sigrid and Bain were watching, he didn’t care, it’s not like they didn’t know.

“Hey, no that’s not what I meant. I have missed you far more than I would like to admit. I could not come because my little Tilda is ill and I did not want to leave her, I had no way of contacting you.” Bard soothed.

The sigh of relief that Thranduil let out was mirrored throughout his body as it relaxed before pulling Bard in for a tight embrace and a kiss upon his head.

“Do not do that to me again.” Thranduil whispered into his hair.

“I will try not to.”

Thranduil released Bard and a new expression of concern covered his face.

“Your daughter is ill? Where is she? I can help her.”

“Upstairs, she is running a slight fever still but I think she is on the mend.”

Thranduil called something in elvish and swept up the stairs, quickly followed by another elf entering the house with a wooden box. Bard followed them upstairs where Thranduil was sat on Sigrid’s bed, next to Tilda, who despite her aliment, was looking up at Thranduil with awe in her eyes.

The Elvenking sent away the second elf as he opened the box and took out some vials and herbs that Bard didn’t recognise.

“Lay still, child.” Thranduil directed gently.

“Are you da’s elf?” Tilda asked with wide eyes, lying back against her pillow.

“Yes.” Thranduil answered with a soft surety and a glance towards Bard that made his heart tug in his chest.

“What are you going to do?” She continued.

“I am going to make you better, so you can enjoy the sunshine tomorrow.” Thranduil responded with a look so tender trained on Tilda that made Bard feel as though someone had taken old of his heart and was squeezing where it beat.

With that Thranduil started mumbling in elvish, Bard didn’t understand the words, but when Thranduil seemed glow with starlight he knew what was happening. Beside him he heard Sigrid and Bain gasp in wonderment at the sight before them. They had seen Tauriel do it for Kili, but with Thranduil, as most things were, it was different; more controlled and practiced, sure and calm, steady and reassuring.

Tilda wasn’t even particularly ill in the grand scheme of things, so watching Thranduil go to such lengths and take such care to heal her was causing a lump to form in his throat.

Not five minutes later it was over and Tilda already had more colour in her face. She clearly had a million questions she wanted to ask Thranduil, but she was tired and dropping off even as she tried to sit up.

“I promise to come back and answer all your questions, Miss Tilda, so you need not fear going to sleep.” Tilda nodded sleepily, and Bard watched, leaning on the doorframe as she leant forwards and slung her arms around Thranduil’s neck in a tired hug and he brought his arms lightly around her before she flopped down to sleep

“She likes you.” Bard pointed out with a smile as the headed down stairs, the Elvenking looking so very out of place in his simple home, and yet Bard feeling like he belonged their completely.

“And I her. It has been a very long time since there was a child in Mirkwood. They are so rare among elves.”

Bard had never thought about this before, though it seemed obvious now. Through the rest of the day Thranduil spent time with Sigrid as she grilled him about elven healing and with Bain as he showed him his bow and taught him the start of a few new skills.

When it reached evening Thranduil and Bard found themselves alone for the first time, sat at his dining table, nursing a couple of hot drinks.

“I was wondering, as you have your children here would it not be easier for me to visit you more often. I don’t not want your visits to me to stop of course, it is my favourite thing, having you in my home. But it never occurred to me before that each time you come to me you leave your children.”

“They are okay on their own occasionally. But yes, I would very much like you to come here, often. I too find that I like having you in my home.” Bard smiled and they shared a tender kiss before Thranduil left with his entourage – which Bard had completely forgotten about.

And thus began the frequent visits of the Elvenking to their little home.

Usually the king would appear up to five times a fortnight, with Bard going to him once in that time; normally with him when he returned home. Sometimes spending the day indoors, other times taking them all into the fringes of the woods to safe little pools and rivers. He also often brought gifts with him; a new bow for Bain, dresses for the girls as well as herbs and books for Sigrid. He was spoiling them really, but Bard couldn’t find it in himself to scold him for it or even mind at all. Bard loved every second of it, feeling as though their little family was somehow complete again.

But he couldn’t help but worry a little. Every time Thranduil came, along with him came a troop of almost fifteen elves, all outfitted in royal garb and regalia. Nothing about it was subtle and it was starting to turn heads.

The race of men were far less forgiving when it came to the romantic relationship between two men. Among elves it was common and accepted, which was why Thranduil behaved to easily and affectionately with him in Mirkwood. Men were not the same, they could be tolerant, but you would be lucky to still be at all respected or thought well upon.

But Bard did not want the visits to stop or even decrease (in fact he wanted quite the opposite). He would rather have himself shunned and stigmatised than lose Thranduil, but he couldn’t help the anxious looks he knew he sent don’t the streets when Thranduil arrived and left each time, as if no one had spotted the huge royal troop throughout the day.

It would not be long – if they hadn’t already – that people would know that the king was not here on official business.

“What troubles you, A'maelamin?” Thranduil asked one evening, as he left the house, he had started using that elvish phrase a lot, Bard thinks he knows what it means by now.

“It’s silly. I will not trouble you with it.”

“If it worries you as it clearly does, then I will not find it foolish I assure you.”

“It just. I worry because men are not as accepting as elves when it comes to two men together. And we are drawing attention. Although I would rather have every person in this city talk of me badly than lose you from my life.”

“I could visit less?” Thranduil offered hesitantly, the idea clearly distasteful on his tongue, but suggesting it nonetheless, Bard sighed and placed a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“No love. My heart would have you visit more not less, regardless of the people of Dale.”

Thranduil blushed and murmured in elvish ‘Amin mela lle’ as he carded his fingers through Bard’s hair.

They spoke no further of it, as Thranduil left with a hug to the children and a kiss on Bard’s cheek.

Three days later Thranduil was on his door step again, Bard just stared as Thranduil smiled at him. He had come sans his royal garb, dressed in common woodland elf clothing of moss green, he had no crown, not even a circlet, his hair was in a simple braid down his back and not a single guard was in sight.

“Oio naa elealla alasse'” Thranduil greeted with a shy smile, Bard is pretty sure that elvish meant that it was good to see him. “Is this better Melamin?” Thranduil asked, gesturing at himself as Bard pulled him through the door.

“You’re perfect.” Bard whispered with a kiss, “Far too good for me.”

“Nothing is too good for you, Amin mela lle.”

That day Bard decided to take Thranduil over the lake, on a small boat that had survived the blazes of Smaug. He knew of a beautiful spot on the edge of the water where they could spend the day away from other eyes.

His plan; however, hit an unforeseen hitch.

“How on earth can you be seasick?!” Bard exclaimed, trying not to laugh as he rubbed Thranduil’s back over the side of the little boat. “We’re not even at sea we’re on a lake and we’ve only been sailing for ten minutes.”

“I am not accustomed to it. And it does not agree with me.” Thranduil groaned.

“Why didn’t you say anything? We needn’t have come.”

“You wanted to show me something, and you said the only way to reach it was by boat.”

“I still would not have wished to make you ill.”

“But I would take being ill to see a place that you love.”

When they finally made it to the shore, it took Thranduil a few hours to stop feeling nauseous, but they enjoyed the long day at the treeline anyway, soaking up the sun and just being together for the day. Bard wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.

It was late when they sailed home, Thranduil was still suffering by the time they had walked all the way to Dale, unfit really to travel home, especially alone. So instead he stayed with them in their little house.

Bard fell asleep with Thranduil in his arms, his children snoring in the next room and a smile that wouldn’t leave his face.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Part 4 will appear in the not too distant future!
> 
> Obviously I do not speak elvish, I found the phrases off of [this site](http://www.grey-company.org/Circle/language/phrase.htm#common)
> 
> As usual I am open to prompts either for this series or another story (for a disgusting number of ships as well) on tumblr
> 
> [Tumbies](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/)


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